


ask me no questions and i'll tell you no lies

by shanlyrical



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fisting, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, POV Darth Vader, Restraints, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-09 00:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/pseuds/shanlyrical
Summary: They never even asked me any questions.—Han Solo,Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back





	ask me no questions and i'll tell you no lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).



The amenities on Cloud City left much to be desired, Darth Vader decided.

The art of interrogation was actually a science, and an impressive range of technologies had been developed to assist in the execution of an interrogation _whilst_ maximizing its effectiveness in achieving positive outcomes for the interrogator. A shame that Calrissian, in his administrative capacity, had elected to invest in precisely none of them. All he had to offer Vader were a series of what were, effectively, holding cells.

They didn’t know the location of Luke Skywalker. Calrissian had already reported as much, and Vader had not sensed a lie. Besides, even if they did, it didn’t actually matter anyway. Why bother expending the effort to hunt the boy down wherever he was hiding when Vader could simply make the boy come to him?

The trick would be to use the right subject. He had three options, but not all of them were equally promising. He dismissed using the Wookiee immediately – Wookiees were long-lived and often possessed the perspective long life afforded. They were also notoriously resistant to pain and difficult to influence through use of the Force. Moreover, this Wookiee had the bearing of an old soldier. No, he would not be broken easily.

The princess Vader had tortured before. He knew, therefore, that she was not the ideal subject for use in this instance either. Her instinctive response to pain was a tidal wave of red anger. It reminded him of himself, and Vader almost admired her for that, but he did not think the princess’s anger alone would be sufficient to move the boy to action.

Which left the smuggler Han Solo as the best remaining option.

“I’m not telling you anything! You’ll get nothing from me!” Solo growled as two stormtroopers secured his wrists above his head with cuffs attached to a hook on the ceiling and his feet with shackles on the floor. Although he wasn’t quite spread-eagled, the stretch was sufficient to be uncomfortable, and Solo’s arms were supporting most of his body weight.

“Leave us,” Vader said to the two stormtroopers. They saluted and made a quick exit.

“Give me your worst, Vader! You won’t be able to do—” Solo gurgled and wheezed as Vader pinched his airway partially shut. He didn’t have to listen to this. Whatever Vader wouldn’t ‘be able to do’ died unvoiced on Solo’s lips.

He could keep this up for a while – denying Solo enough air to speak but not so much that he lost consciousness or died of suffocation. Solo continued wheezing and choking, saliva bubbling and dripping from his parted lips as Vader paused to consider his course of action. The stormtroopers had already punched Solo in the gut a few times when he was first taken prisoner. Something different would be more effective as an opening salvo. Hmm. Old-fashioned bone-bending, perhaps?

Yes, that should do. Vader would start with bone-bending. With a flick of his gloved fingers, the long bones in Solo’s arms and legs began to warp themselves into unnatural curves. Bending, bending, bending, but not _quite_ enough to snap and break. Vader knew exactly where to stop. Solo eyes bulged and began to leak tears as he tried to gulp the air to scream. Vader decided not to allow it. Not yet. He tightened his grip on Solo’s windpipe ever, ever so slightly.

The excruciating pain made it easy for Vader to penetrate Solo’s mind. Time to up the ante further. Now Vader caused all of Solo’s nerve endings everywhere in his body to fire at once, a sensation of unspeakable, unimaginable but wholly phantom pain – worse by far than the pain of being electrocuted or burnt – on top of the real pain of the bone-bending. Solo’s gauche clothes were soaking wet with perspiration; his mind was a supernova-bright explosion of agony. He tried screaming again. Again, Vader did not let him.

All in all, Vader thought, this was going well. Solo did not want to scream in defiance or anger. His scream would be a mindless plea for mercy, for succor, for an end to his suffering. He wanted to be saved. This was exactly the kind of intense emotion Vader needed him to project across the vast expanses of the galaxy. And yet…

And yet. It wasn’t quite enough. Solo hated pain, was unmanned by it, that was true, Vader could see that in his mind. But there was something the smuggler hated even more—

How amusing. A shame Vader was no longer young. Once, he would have been able to make Solo’s worst nightmares come true the old-fashioned way, his body pushed into Solo’s, taking his pleasure from the exquisite friction of flesh against flesh as Solo writhed on the impalement, humiliated by his vulnerability and the unmasking of his most shameful, secret desires—

Abruptly, the neuropathic pain stopped, and Solo’s bones straightened. Solo sagged in his restraints, chest heaving, panting for breath that still wouldn’t quite come. Vader gave him no more than a split second’s reprieve before, with another flick of Vader’s gloved fingers, Solo’s anus began to stretch.

He didn’t understand what was happening at first. He was too brutalized, too exhausted, to notice what Vader was doing to him. That changed, however, when Vader curled his fingers into a fist. Solo’s back arched, and he threw his head back and writhed, trying to exhale, trying to scream, as his anus was stretched to a circumference equal to Vader’s fist, as the unnatural invasion began to progress deeper.

And deeper still. He started moving in and out of Solo, punching, _pounding_ in and out of him with all of the dark Force energies he could muster. Solo’s thoughts were incoherent blurts of pure emotion; if he could have spoken he would have been begging and pleading – though whether for Vader to stop or _never to stop_ neither Vader nor Solo were entirely certain.

The penetration continued, wracking Solo’s already much-abused body with a humiliating, intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure. Solo’s pants were bulging at the groin; he was aroused and appalled by his arousal and horrified by how close he was to coming—

Solo started to orgasm. Vader rammed his power home into Solo for a final time, the extent of the stretch monstrous, obscene as the insertion of a hand and the arm it was attached to, to the elbow and beyond, and as Solo ejaculated uncontrollably, torso jerking with each violent pulse, Vader at last released his hold on Solo’s windpipe.

Luke would definitely hear _that_ scream, wherever in the great wide galaxy he was. Save me, Solo’s mind screamed over and over, helpless, desperate, reduced to base, animal terror, _save me_! It seemed practically neverending, and it was _everything_. Amenities or no amenities, overall Vader was most pleased with the outcome of the interrogation.

He summoned the two stormtroopers back into the holding cell. “We are finished here,” he said. “Remove him.”


End file.
